Collateral
by The Tenth
Summary: Tohma blackmails Yuki into considering him as romantic alternative to Shuichi. Yuki struggles to uphold his relationship with Shuichi in the face of Tohma's cruel mind games. ::Chapter 5: Tohma's motives and intentions reveled::
1. Chapter 1

This story begins after Yuki and Shuichi's "Million Copies Sold" date and branches down a parallel "What if…?" canon.

In vol. 8 of the Gravi manga, Tohma orders Shuichi to stop his relationship with Yuki --a choice I found uncharacteristically foolish on Tohma's part (for reasons pointed out in this chapter). This fic's core premise is, "What if Tohma had gone to Yuki instead of Shuichi?"

Also in volume 8, Tohma muses that Yuki is only with Shuichi because he "clicks" for Yuki. Tohma figures that all he needs to do is find someone else that clicks, and Yuki would go for that. Thus, rather than tearing Y/S apart, Tohma inserts himself in as an option in hopes that Yuki will choose him…

Tohma/Eiri, Yuki/Shuichi

1,600 words

Rated: R (for lemon in future chapters)

Comments and criticism will be put to good use (and a sure way to make my day!)

Enjoy!

Collateral

Yuki strode into the president's office without knocking. Tohma rose from his black leather throne at the sight of his visitor, a warm smile immediately on his face. An unannounced disturbance such as this would have been inexcusable sin in anyone else, but Yuki had always been an exception to such rules. Tohma began to cross around the desk towards his visitor to embrace him, but Yuki dropped into the chair on the other side of the desk before he had the chance.

Tohma's smile did not falter a moment. He had expected just such a reaction. He perched on the corner of the desk, looming over his guest. "A visit from you is always a pleasant surprise, Eiri-san," he said warmly.

Yuki ignored the greeting. "So what's this about you dropping Bad Luck?" His expression showed only bland indifference, but the hard edge to his voice betrayed him.

Tohma nodded slightly. His face formed a perfect pantomime of somber resignation. "I'm afraid the group is simply too unstable," Tohma explained. He folded his hands and searched Yuki's eyes as he spoke. "While I agree that they show great potential, they are simply not a risk that N-G can afford. More specifically, Shindou-san seems to be the unreliable one, but he is synonymous with the group's image. If I drop Shindou-san, I'm afraid I may as well drop the entire band."

Yuki's expression darkened. "That's odd," he said, "With the CD sales lately, I would have thought _dropping_ Bad Luck would be the risk you couldn't afford."

Tohma shook his head slightly. "Certainly, their popularity has gone far beyond our expectations, but I need reliability not just sales. Shindou-san calls in sick often and goes missing for days at a time. He refuses to rehearse when the mood doesn't suit him. He suffers writer's block with lyrics, and on more than one occasion he has been defiant of authority.

"I simply can't have a loose cannon like that on my label. I could easily see him being truant to a sold-out concert and that would reflect poorly on us. No, Eiri-san. He certainly had the potential of a rising star, but he completely lacks the self-discipline required for this business."

Yuki's mouth was a hard line. "But the kid said that being dropped was just a rumor at this point."

Tohma's eyes glittered now, locked onto Yuki's. "True. Certainly nothing is set in stone yet."

Yuki sighed. Blackmail appeared to be the order of the day. He ached for a cigarette, but he knew that was one thing Tohma would not allow in his office and he didn't want to remind Tohma of his advantage of power. "Let me guess. You want me to leave Shuichi in order for you to keep him on? Why don't you just deliver your threats to him personally?"

"And make a martyr of him?" Tohma asked, a faint smile on his face. "No, no. I'm not about to ask either of you to leave the other. I've gone the route of taking your toys from you before, Eiri-san, and I find it only leads to resentment towards me."

"Then you admit your motivation for dropping him are personal," Yuki said.

Tohma would not be riled. "I stand by what I said earlier. My reasons for dropping Bad Luck are strictly professional." He paused a moment, then leaned forward. "However, I would be willing to forgo my better judgment for a personal incentive."

Yuki hesitated. He had expected that Tohma would make him leave Shuichi and that would be that. What more could he ask for? His mind wandered down jagged paths of dark possibilities. Did Tohma want him to give up writing? Would he ask for Eiri's royalties to force him into financial dependence on him and Mika?

"Then what do you want?"

Tohma could feel tension crackle through the air between them like electricity. Yuki was poised in frozen anxiety, like a gazelle braced to flee. Tohma felt distantly aroused by Yuki's helplessness. It put him in a hunter mood, but he kept his expression one of easy camaraderie.

"All I ask is a chance to spend some quality time with you, Eiri-san," Tohma said, "If I tried to take Shindou from you, it would only make you resent me. You would rebel against me to keep eating that forbidden fruit."

Tohma found a speck of dust on his desk and brushed it away. "So I've given up on that. I feel it would be more prudent and far more enjoyable for us both if we do it this way. I can show you a positive reinforcement rather than punishment."

Yuki's eyes flickered across Tohma's face, searching for weakness. He didn't trust this. But what choice did he have? The reason he was here in the first place was because of Shuichi. Ever since he had overheard the rumor of Bad Luck's demise, the usually energetic boy lurked around the house like a mournful phantom. The spark of life that Yuki secretly loved was gone from Shuichi's eyes. He was just a husk of his former self.

The boy was usually sentimental to the extreme--quick to tears at the slightest provocation but in dire situations like this, Shuichi remained dry-eyed. He stared ahead and died a little inside with each passing hour. The singer needed his music the way plants need sunlight and like it or not, Yuki was addicted to Shuichi's vibrancy. As long as Shuichi wilted, Yuki withered with him. He needed to set things right, even if that meant stooping to Tohma's terms.

"So… What? Like a date?" Yuki asked finally.

Tohma infuriated him further by chuckling into his hand. "Call it what you will," he said, "But I simply want some quality time with you. Some mature conversation--a chance to discuss poetry, culture, and your writing together. Enjoy _pinot noir_ and _Camembert_ instead of your usual Coca-Cola and Pocky."

Yuki's scowl deepened. He hated the way Tohma trivialized Shuichi by pointing out his childish tastes, but he couldn't deny the edge of truth in those words. He felt insulted by association, but held his tongue. Tohma could have demanded far worse from him. Besides, a guilty voice in the back of Yuki's mind whispered that mature conversation and fine food with Tohma did not sound so bad.

"And it won't bother you that Shuichi lives with me in the meantime?" Yuki asked. His voice was thick with skepticism.

Tohma spread his hands and shrugged. "All I ask is that you meet with me on occasion when and how I specify. But the rest of your time is your own."

Yuki balked. That was uncomfortably vague. What sort of things would be expected of him? He was temped to ask, but what difference would the answer make? If it were something he could handle, then he would bear it for the sake of keeping Shuichi happy. If Tohma's demands were ever so extreme that losing Shuichi was preferable, Yuki would be forced to cancel their arrangement.

"For how long?" he asked. The possibility of an eternity in Tohma's debt loomed in his mind.

"As long as necessary," Tohma said casually, "But I won't press my point beyond reason."

Yuki wondered what Tohma's definition of "beyond reason" entailed, but he would look cowardly if he asked. At least it sounded like if Tohma's plan failed and he was not able to capture Yuki's heart, he would give up eventually. In either event, it was Tohma's game and Yuki was trapped into playing it. The best Yuki could do was even the stakes.

"If I do this," he began, "I want your absolute assurance that Shuichi has a place here at N-G. And no threats or intimidation directed at him." After only a flickering pause he added, "In fact, I want you to give the band more backing than they have now. If I do what you're asking, I want Bad Luck to thrive."

Tohma's maddening smile remained. He was not about to let Yuki ruffle him. The request was a trifle in the end, after all. If all went well, Yuki would leave Shuichi behind regardless of Bad Luck's success. In fact, Yuki's departure would be easier for Shuichi to take if the boy was swept away in the swift current of fame. "Certainly. He will have the full support N-G has to offer. Of course, if you choose to break our agreement all bets are off."

_And Bad Luck will be finished_ was the unspoken conclusion

After a stiff silence, Yuki asked, "So… When?"

"I was hoping we might meet tomorrow night," Tohma said. He reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a hotel business card. "I've made us reservations at the Hotel Seiyo in Ginza. Dinner will be ready at 8:00 in the penthouse suite." He slid the card across the desk.

The younger man regarded the card in front of him as if it were a venomous spider and not a slip of paper. Tohma had the card ready in his desk drawer; he had already made the arrangements. He knew from the start that Yuki would willingly step into this trap. There was never any question of that. Humiliation prickled Yuki's skin. Was he really so predictable?

"I know the place," Yuki said, without taking the card. It was true; he'd taken at least a dozen women to the luxury hotel over the years. "I'll be there." He rose and left the room before Tohma could say anything else.

Behind his back, the president's smile turned from measured courtesy into something unrestrained and savage.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Notes:** I thought I should make a note about characterization (especially Tohma's) as I consider the direction this fic will take in order to uncover unexplored aspects of the characters.  
While Tohma is often regarded as a caring nurturer, I would also argue that he is more than just a little psychologically unbalanced. This is easily seen when he pushes a Aizawa in front of a car (vol. 5, p. 88) and Yuki genuinely believes Tohma capable of murdering Shuichi (vol. 8, p. 129) (Also see my canon Tohma/Eiri proofs posted on Gurabite under the author name "Tenth")_

Consider the chapters in "Collateral" to be an extreme portrayal of Tohma's psychosis rather than his sweet side, or if you prefer, a Remix-style AU fic.

Thanks to Aja for reading twice and to everyone who has commented thus far! Your feedback is greatly appreciated!   
Nolan

Collateral Chapter 2

Yuki felt numb as he drove toward the Hotel Seiyo. It was a luxury hotel in Ginza, the most expensive district in Tokyo. Tohma spared no expense; that much was certain. A little cuisine and conversation didn't sound so bad but Yuki was still left with a sense of dread.

First and foremost, Yuki was anxious that he was going to lose Tohma as a friend. Tohma had always been poor at hiding his amorous feelings for Yuki and he was maddeningly vague about details for their "arrangement." What if his brother-in-law did something stupid or pushed things too far? Although Yuki feigned disinterest during Tohma's visits, he knew that his brother-in-law was one of the few people he could turn to in a crisis, or at least someone whom he felt understood him. This date might change everything between them, and without Tohma--

Yuki's stomach cramped, bringing the taste of copper to his mouth. Shit. It had only been a week since he'd left the hospital, after his stress-induced breakdown. He had collapsed on the floor of his apartment, vomiting blood. The doctor said no liquor or cigarettes for two weeks and he was supposed to keep the stress to a minimum. Yuki had pushed himself to keep his promised date with Shuichi, but the sour taste rising in his mouth reminded him that this meeting might be one stressor too many.

Yuki dismissed the thought. There was no point in working himself into a frenzy over something that might not happen. There were plenty of perfectly legitimate reasons why Tohma had chosen a hotel of all places. He probably just wanted a place that was more private than a restaurant, but somewhere other than their own apartments so they would not have to worry about their respective partners interrupting.

Just the same, Yuki had decided to bring a courtesy gift for his host. His plan was to counter any of Tohma's attempts at intimacy with exaggerated formality. He figured if he had dressed and acted casually, it would give Tohma a sense of comfort and closeness. Instead, he'd brought a gift and dressed especially neatly to give the impression that he thought of this as a business arrangement rather than a date.

Yuki had already parked and turned off the engine off before he realized he had arrived at hotel parking structure. The clock in the car dashboard told him he was right on time. There was no time to sit and think.

_Just go. Get it over with._

Yuki got out of the car.

Tohma's pulse throbbed in his throat and his palms were slick with sweat. He could not remember the last time he'd felt so anxious. Tohma was a god among men in Tokyo; he had complete control in all things, but this plan to reclaim Yuki set him off-kilter. He had everything planned to the last detail, but Yuki's reactions had always been something of a wild card. Tohma could see this evening turning into paradise or disaster and he felt it was entirely up to him to keep things moving in the right direction.

He heard the faint sound of a knock on the door and his heart rate doubled. He wiped his damp palms on his slacks and opened the door. Yuki stood in the doorway wearing unusually sharp-looking clothes and holding a neatly-wrapped present in one hand. He wore a somber expression, but Tohma could see ill-suppressed awkwardness underneath. At least he wasn't alone in his anxiety, Tohma thought to himself. His chest eased and it made it helped return a smile to his face. They were both inhibited, but they would work through it just like any first date.

"Come in," Tohma said, gesturing into the room in welcome. Yuki slipped his shoes off next to Tohma's at the door and stepped inside.

The room's furnishings were decadent, appropriately reflecting Tohma's usual flare for style. The suite was enormous, complete with a recessed living room and an open dining area. The door to the adjoining bedroom stood open, revealing the corner of the bed beyond.

"Here," Yuki said and sullenly and pressed the package into Tohma's hands. Tohma accepted the gift with a warm smile. Unbeknownst to Yuki, he was thrilled to see the author had bothered to dress up for the occasion. He even had the forethought to bring a gift! This encounter might have been something Yuki had been looking forward to, perhaps something Yuki had long hoped Tohma would initiate. Tohma's confidence surged back in full force. He politely set the gift aside to open later.

"Thank you," Tohma said, "Please sit." He gestured toward the dining area. A table there was already dressed in a pristine white tablecloth, a fresh floral arrangement, and twin candlesticks.

Yuki slumped into his seat with all the joy of a prisoner led in shackles. Tohma slid into the plush chair across from him and rested his chin on his interlaced fingers with a warm smile.

As if on cue, one of the hotel staff tapped on the door. Tohma called for her to enter and a woman entered with a service tray laden with covered dinner platters. Yuki instinctively cupped his hand over the side of his face and looked away, pretending to look at the curtains. The woman primly laid the plates before them and Yuki wished he were invisible. How must this look to have two men eating by candlelight in a single bed suite? Any sort of sensible business transaction normally would have been handled in the restaurant downstairs. He suddenly felt like a well-kept whore.

He didn't face the table again until the serving girl bowed to them both and backed politely out the door, and he heard it click shut. When he looked back to the table, he saw she'd brought steaming pewter dishes of _kobe_ veal and marinated artichoke hearts with mushrooms, artistically arranged with a rosemary garnish and served in delicate portions. Under different circumstances, the aroma would have been mouth-watering. Yuki felt sick.

"No wine?" Yuki asked, searching the table with his eyes.

Tohma clicked his tongue and wagged an admonishing finger. "One more week. Doctor's orders." He raised a crystal glass of ice water in Yuki's direction in a silent salute to his health and took a sip. "Are you feeling better yet?"

_No._ "Yeah," Yuki said. He picked up his knife and fork and began to saw at the veal with all the reluctance and nausea of an intern performing his first surgery. "The medicine is really helping," he lied, "But I can't work so I'm bored as hell." That much was true, at least.

Tohma smiled. "Well, I'm happy to be a diversion for you for a few hours." He took a dainty bite of veal, ground it between his teeth and sighed in pleasure. "How are things with Shindou-san?"

Yuki had been valiantly fighting to appear pleasant—well, civil—but this last comment returned the frown to his face. He did not relish the thought of listening to a sermon about why his boyfriend made an unworthy partner. "Do we have to talk about him?"

Tohma furrowed his pale brow and put on a concerned look as if he found Yuki's reaction unexpected. "Well, I would like to…"

_So, in other words, I have no choice,_ Yuki sighed inwardly. "We're doing fine," he said, "He was really happy when I told him it was just a rumor that Bad Luck was in danger."

"I'm glad," Tohma said. Either he meant it, or he was a perfect mimic of sincerity. "You know, Shindou-san reminds me of you in many ways—how you used to be as a boy."

Yuki raised an eyebrow. It was the most complimentary thing he could remember Tohma ever saying of Shuichi, but he didn't see the comparison. "How do you figure?"

"I don't mean so much in the details," Tohma explained. "It's more his general type-- enthusiastic, devoted, passionate. That's the young Eiri I knew. Perhaps you see your younger self in Shindou now."

"So you're saying I want to date myself?" Yuki snorted in disbelief. "Hn. Not damn likely." Yuki knew no one on earth hated him as much as he hated himself. Despite his surface act of arrogance, Yuki was a desperate self-loather. The thought that he found his own type attractive was ludicrous.

Tohma shook his head. His tone was one of good-natured patience, as a parent explaining something to a child. "I just think that you want to protect Shuichi the way you wish that you could have been protected. What happened back then hardened you, Eiri-san."

_Obviously,_ Yuki thought to himself. _How could anyone expect him to go through that experience unchanged?_ He hesitated only a moment before asking the question that loomed in the forefront of his mind. "Why are you bringing all this up now? I thought you just wanted dinner."

Tohma's face took on a crestfallen look that Yuki seldom saw. He looked genuinely hurt about something. "Suffering in silence is getting you nowhere," he said, "You can't expect your problems to go away if you never address them."

Tohma's voice stayed the same volume, but his voice grew in intensity, even wavering as he spoke as if he struggled to keep himself in check. "You always tell me you don't want to talk about it and out of respect, I've left you alone, but nothing is solved and things only grow steadily worse."

Yuki wondered if Tohma was referring to the relationship with Shuichi when he said "steadily worse." It was no secret that Tohma held no more affection than parchment-thin professional courtesy towards Shuichi. It seemed he could handle Yuki tomcatting around with a different girlfriend every night, but this long-term relationship with Shuichi proved to be his undoing.

"I don't know what you talk to your therapist about or if you even go any more," Tohma continued, "But I want you to have the good life you deserve and that's never going to happen until you work through this. So just hear me out. Trust me. Talk to me. I want to help you."

So that was Tohma's game. This entire date was an intervention of sorts to force Yuki into dialogue about his past, about his current love life. Either way, he was a captive audience and figured there was no help for it but to humor Tohma. Once Tohma was satisfied, he would leave Yuki alone again. He resisted the urge to rub at the throbbing pain in his temples. He would at least have to appear open-minded or Tohma would never let him be.

"All right. So let's hear your theory," Yuki said. Knowing Tohma, he had probably diagnosed this problem and laid out his idea of a solution long ago.

Tohma looked pleased by Yuki's compliance and continued, folding his fingers. "Because of what happened back then, you took on the role of the aggressor so you wouldn't have to be afraid of being the victim again," he began, "Keeping someone weak like Shindou-san at your side can also make you feel comfortably in control. Moreover, it gives you the chance to protect him and care for him the way you deserved to be protected as a boy. You can project yourself onto Shindou-san and enjoy that sense of protection vicariously. It's like therapy for the past; by fixing things now you represent the way they should have been then."

Yuki resented the way Tohma made Shuichi sound utterly replaceable, like anyone remotely like him could have fulfilled the same needs. "So you're saying I'm playing the role of Kitazawa but protecting Shuichi as though he were me?" 

Tohma ignored the skepticism in Yuki's voice. "Isn't that why you make him call you 'Yuki'?"

Yuki stiffened. How did he know that? No. It was just a lucky guess on Tohma's part. There was no way he could know that it was a rule he had laid down for Shuichi. "Maybe that's what he prefers to call me. That's the name all my fans use," Yuki said.

"I'd imagine Shindou-san would still prefer to be on a first-name basis if you let him." Tohma shrugged as if the matter were of little importance instead of a deep assertion about Yuki's psychology. "I figured you just like to hear the name 'Yuki' spoken on his lips with love. Like fixing the past with the way you play out the present."

Yuki's stomach cramped when he thought about Kitazawa. Tohma's words immediately made him think of his own words of love that would remain forever unspoken. It was a dream that would go eternally unfulfilled because of his crime against the man he loved, the choices both of them had made that had unraveled one life and ended another.

Memories of gore-splattered walls in New York bobbed to the surface of his mind like floating corpses. Suddenly the smell of the meat in front of him was abhorrent. Yuki pushed his plate away and pressed his fingers against his lips to discourage his meal from rising back up his throat.

There was a light tap on the door that turned both their heads. "I'll get it," Tohma said. He set his napkin on the table and rose from his seat with feline grace. Perhaps he noticed Yuki's earlier embarrassment because this time the server didn't enter.

Yuki took a drink from his water glass. The ice cubes rattled and he noticed his hand was inexplicably shaking.

Tohma returned from the door holding two dessert dishes. "_Crème brûlée,_" he announced proudly, setting a dish in front of each of them.

Yuki regarded the custard joylessly. It used to be his favorite dessert when he lived in New York with Tohma. Since then, he found he had no taste for it, or more specifically the association with that food and that place was too strong. Tohma must have been aware of this, too, because he had never once bought this particular sweet for Yuki ever since they had returned to Japan. Yuki wondered what it meant if Tohma had chosen this dish deliberately tonight. He told himself it was probably just a hotel specialty, to keep from thinking that this could be part of Tohma's idea of 'therapy.'

Yuki picked up his spoon and used it to crack the hard layer of caramelized sugar on the top. Beneath the splintered shell, the virgin paleness of the cream lay exposed like a wound.

"Don't you like it?" Tohma asked.

Yuki felt he would rather eat garbage than a spoonful of dessert, but realized he didn't have much of a choice. Telling Tohma he had an upset stomach on their first date would be about as believable as a student claiming to be deathly ill on the first day of finals.

He slid a small bite of the cream into his mouth. It tasted like damp ash on his tongue but he made a "mmm" noise of approval anyway. He forced a smile that felt shitty and fake.

Tohma smiled back at him and laughed lightly. "Messy," he said. He rose from his seat and drew close to his companion. Yuki knew very well that there nothing on his face but Tohma lovingly brushed the corner of his mouth with his thumb as if wiping away a stray bit of cream there.

All at once, Yuki felt so lightheaded he would have fallen over had he wasn't already sitting. He closed his eyes against another nauseating wave of dizziness. The darkness behind his closed eyes soothed him and his churning stomach eased. He felt the gentle pressure of Tohma's thumb depart from his cheek. A moment later, soft lips pressed at the corner of his mouth instead.

"Eiri-san, are you not feeling well?" Tohma asked in a voice of gentle concern. He lay a second kiss, this time on Yuki's upper lip and smoothed his fingers through Yuki's hair.

_What… was in that food?_ His body felt dizzy, heavy.

"Let me help you," Tohma soothed.

Still feeling dangerously faint, Yuki was so focused on staying upright, he was only distantly aware as soft hands took his and led him toward the bedroom. It was a strange reversal for Yuki. How many times had he led some starry-eyed woman to his bed just this way? Did Tohma feel that same hollow disgust for him that Yuki felt towards the faceless fans who spread their legs for him?

Mercifully, a veil of numbness covered Yuki's body like a man in shock when they arrived in the bedroom. He could barely feel Tohma trailing kisses from the angle of his jaw down across his throat or the fingers that deftly loosened the buttons down the front of his shirt.

"You're so thin, Eiri-san," Tohma gasped as he looked at Yuki's chest. "Is no one taking care of you?" He slipped the shirt down off Yuki's shoulders and it fluttered to the floor.

Through half-lidded eyes, Yuki watched as Tohma slid off his own shirt, revealing a surprisingly muscular frame. Tohma's arms were slender but rippled with underlying strength and his belly and chest were taut with muscle. He looked as strong in body as he was in mind.

Yuki wasn't surprised. Tohma seemed just the type who would keep himself sharp and fit in every way he could. The author suddenly felt pitifully thin and weak by comparison, despite Tohma's shorter stature. Only the fairness of Tohma's skin gave an impression of weakness or frailty. The light dusting of hair on his body was pale enough to be white and his skin was so fair it was nearly albino.

Yuki felt Tohma unfasten the heavy buckle on his belt. A hand brushed the front of his pants to pull down his fly and the weight of his belt dropped his pants to the floor without ceremony. Tohma's hands slid across Yuki's buttocks as he pulled down his underwear.

Tohma drew the younger man into his arms, whispering words of love that Yuki only half-heard. Yuki felt Tohma's fingers gently stroking into his hair and pulling him closer. Tohma carefully sat on the foot of the bed and he drew Yuki down to sit beside him.

"You're so cold," Tohma said, laying his hands on Yuki's numb fingers, "Let me warm you." Still sitting alongside Yuki, Tohma kneaded and squeezed Yuki's palms and fingers. His warm fingers worked the heat back into Yuki's hands and the author closed his eyes with the soothing feel of the massage.

The warm hands strayed to the rest of Yuki's body. One of Tohma's arms curled around the slender swell of Yuki's ribs while the other slid down the side of his belly to caress the top of his thigh, then upward toward his half-erect penis.

It wasn't right. Not this, not with him. Tohma's fingers gripped Yuki's shaft and Yuki put his hand against Tohma's to stop him. "Don't," he said, "Why are you…?" His threadbare words tapered to nothing, his head reeling.

"I only want to take care of you," Tohma murmured, "Like no one else can. Let me show you." While Yuki still sat rigidly upright, Tohma palmed Yuki's erection, sliding downward to caress his testicles, then worked back up and began to stroke him with experienced finesse.

Yuki grit his teeth. In his confusion, he was certain that if he stopped Tohma now, the man would drop Bad Luck and Shuichi without a second thought. Without music, Shuichi would crumble and Yuki would fall with him. Who would he turn to for consolation if he landed on Tohma's bad side? Yuki couldn't handle being alone again, or turning back to the sea of women whose faces he couldn't remember a week later. It wasn't that simple any more. He was on the brink of losing everything, or he could do something simple and save his lover and himself.

"You're the only one who understands me," Yuki breathed.

Tohma groaned at the sound of those words and attached his lips to the angle of Yuki's neck and shoulder, sucking firmly. He worked Yuki's cock with his hand, sliding the loose skin upward at the base of his head and squeezing firmly with each upstroke.

Yuki screwed his eyes shut, hoping to lose himself in the pleasure without thinking about Tohma. He tried to picture Shuichi's hand and mouth working him instead, but it was impossible. Tohma deftly sought out Yuki's pleasure zones as Shuichi never could and the scent of his musk was all wrong. When Yuki tried to picture the source of this pleasure as someone else, it was Kitazawa's arms wrapped around him, stroking him, sucking and biting at his neck.

_Sensei…_

Tohma was whispering something in Yuki's ear, but he couldn't make out what it was. Soft murmurings, a familiar voice from long ago, back when he knew what it meant to love desperately. His tutor's voice, his idol.

Yuki's body ached and he groaned, feeling the pleasure gather and coil in the pit of his stomach, brimming with reluctant passion. Insistent fingers stroked him firmer, faster, drawing at that pleasure until it spilled over. His whole body tensed, straining to hold it inside, but orgasm crested over him, tossing his seed across his chest and tensed belly in long hot strands.

_Sensei!_

In that same instant, Yuki felt something deep inside of him break and rise upward. He turned his head and vomited on the floor, narrowly avoiding their discarded clothes. Through half-slitted eyes, he could see it was thick with blood. His vision grayed as he sat upright and fell back onto the mattress. A buzzing sound rang in his ears-- the vanguard sign of a panic attack.

"Eiri-san!" Tohma cried.

Yuki lay limply on his side on the bed, panting like a dog. The comforter beneath his bare skin felt comfortingly soft, but it wasn't solid enough to steady the reeling in his head. The room was spinning, like he was curled up in the center point of a record player.

"Eiri-san! Eiri-san!" Tohma's eyes brimmed with panicked tears and he threw his arms around the crumpled figure. Yuki wondered if it was guilt that put that desperate edge in his voice or if it was the regret of a child who had inadvertently broken his favorite toy.

"I'll call for--!" Tohma started to say. He stood up and took two steps toward the hotel phone, then appeared to think better of it and stopped.

"Stay here!" Tohma cried. He tore the hotel bathrobe off its hanger and threw it around his shoulders as he ran to the front door. "I'll get you something. I'll get help!" Tohma abandoned his usual grace as he hurled himself into the hallway like a man possessed.

The sound of pounding footsteps fading down the hallway grew distant and Yuki closed his eyes in relief at the blissful silence that followed. He wanted to sleep. It would feel so good…

_No._

The urge to flee came suddenly. As the depths of Yuki's panic attack subsided, his vision returned and he stirred into action. He felt as weak and helpless as an old man and it took all his strength to sit upright again. His joints felt like brittle rubber bands and he leaned heavily on the bed to steady himself as he rose to his feet.

Once standing, he swayed in place. If the dresser hadn't been close enough to lean on, he would have fallen again. Time was not on his side if he wanted to escape before Tohma returned. He couldn't stand to be seen here like this by whatever help Tohma would bring. Shuichi might catch wind of it. Yuki moved as quickly as his overtaxed body would allow him. He pulled on his shirt and pants and crammed his underwear into his pocket. He gathered his shoes in his hand at the door and staggered out into the hallway with all the grace of a village drunkard.

He took a few steps forward down the hallway, but then careened diagonally until his shoulder cracked against the wall.

_Hold together just a little bit longer. Take it slowly._

It took all his concentration, but Yuki managed to walk in a straight line toward the elevators. He turned a few heads of the hotel staff when he reached the lobby, but no one said anything. This sort of thing happened in hotels. With Yuki's clothes flapping half-open and his shoes in his hand, he looked for all the world like an adulterous lover fleeing his mistress's hotel room before her husband found out. A strangled laugh escaped his lips at the thought.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks in advance to those who read and comment! Thank you to Kinomi for beta-reading. 

Collateral Chapter 3

Yuki opened his car door with unsteady hands. The familiar smell of rich upholstery and stale cigarette smoke greeted him as he slid into the driver's seat. He thrust his car key at the ignition, but his hands shook so badly he only succeeding in stabbing at the steering column.

The novelist heaved an impatient sigh and ran a stiff-fingered hand through his hair. His head reeled as if he was drunk. Torn between his urgency to leave and the need to calm down, his heart throbbed against his ribs. He was alone now, but someone could show up to stop him at any time.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the clutter scattered across the passenger seat. They were mostly Shuichi's things—a small denim jacket draped across the seat back, a few candy wrappers, even a wadded pair of dirty socks. A pile of CDs adorned the seat itself. The seductive faces of teen idols and rock stars peered up at Yuki from behind scratched jewel cases.

A small smile curled Yuki's lips. _Messy kid. Always leaving his stuff around._ Somehow the mundane mess soothed him. It was as though the ordeal with Tohma could be no more than a bad dream when he was faced with the humdrum reality of soda stains on the floor mats.

Yuki sifted through the CD pile, breezing past the Nittle Grasper albums from which he caught a glimpse of Tohma's piercing gaze. Just as he'd hoped, the latest Bad Luck album was also in the pile. Yuki slid the disc into his car stereo and a moment later, the warm sound of Shuichi's voice crooned in his ears. The ache in his chest eased and he settled back in his seat.

Yuki listened to his placebo lover until the fog in his head began to clear. He could almost hear the real Shuichi singing along to his album from the passenger seat. With steady hands, Yuki pushed the key into the ignition and his luxury car purred to life. He turned up the volume and Shuichi's voice guided him home.

"I'm hooooome, Yuki!" Shuichi announced as he bounded through the front door of their apartment.

The lights inside were on, and his lover's navy blue Mercedes was parked in the driveway. Shuichi knew Yuki got there first, but there was no reply. Shuichi couldn't smell dinner cooking, which was a disappointment, too, but he _was_ getting home late. Maybe there were leftovers in the fridge…

The singer hummed to himself on the way to the kitchen when he heard the muffled sound of the shower running. He abandoned the promise of Yuki's cooking in favor of Yuki himself and hustled to the bathroom.

The door was slightly ajar and Shuichi poked his head inside. "Yuuu—" he began to call, but the sight of his boyfriend halted the name on his lips.

Yuki stood under the spray of the shower, but he wasn't scrubbing himself; he wasn't even moving. He just stared at the tiles on the wall in front of him, hands at his sides. He wore a blank look on his face that Shuichi had never seen before, like a ghost.

"I'm home, Yuki!" Shuichi announced cheerfully. He couldn't stand to watch Yuki in that eerie reverie a moment longer.

Yuki startled and turned his eyes toward Shuichi. Yuki looked at him stunned, as if he didn't recognize him and then his expression softened. "Ahh," he said, "Welcome home."

"Don't mind if I join you, right?" Shuichi said. He flashed his lover a brazen wink and began to strip off his clothes. The two men often took showers together and this looked like the perfect time to distract Yuki from dark thoughts.

"Sure," Yuki said. His eyes lingered on Shuichi with a look of unspoken longing as thought it had been a long time since they last saw each other.

Shuichi pushed his concern into the pit of his stomach. It worried him to see his lover like this, but he knew Yuki would only close himself off if he asked what was wrong. Shuichi knew from experience that being his normal cheerful self was the best way to see Yuki smile again.

Shuichi peeled off his socks and blue briefs and stepped gingerly into the shower behind Yuki. "Did you get a lot of writing done today?" he asked brightly. He wrapped his arms behind Yuki's neck and leaned up on tiptoe to nibble Yuki's ear, but the spray of water distracted him first.

"Aaah! Why's the water so cold?" he gasped. Maneuvering past Yuki's bare hips, Shuichi stretched to turn up the heat. The water was frigid when he first got in, but Yuki had been just standing in it that way. Weird. Shuichi turned the knob and the usual haze of steam began to fill the room.

"Just some revisions," Yuki said. "I was at the hospital most of the day. Just for routine check-up stuff."

Shuichi nodded, but fell suddenly silent. He'd spotted a faint red mark on the side of Yuki's neck that looked suspiciously like a love bite, but he wasn't the one who put it there. Yuki hated hickies or any sex mark that was visible when clothed, and this one was right at the angle of his shoulder and neck. Shuichi told himself it was just part of the hospital's tests that left a faint bruise, but insecurities about Yuki's faithfulness began to trickle back.

While Shuichi was lost in thought, Yuki squeezed a dollop of peach-scented bath gel onto a loofah and worked it into lather. "Let me wash you," he said. A familiar suggestive smile had returned to the author's face and it was enough to make Shuichi put his worries aside for the time.

"Mmm. Sounds good" Shuichi said, pressing his lips against Yuki's in a kiss. "It's been a long day."

Shuichi began to describe his day at work. Bad Luck had been dragged on an especially grueling photo shoot for their next album cover that afternoon. The photographer was demanding and kept the band members out late, leaving them exhausted. While the singer prattled on, Yuki listened with his usual silent attentiveness. He nodded and asked prompting questions at the right moments, all the while rubbing Shuichi down with the sudsy bath puff.

"…But the photographer told us to do it anyway," Shuichi rambled on, "And Hiro was, like—Aaaah! Yuki!" The singer's eyes went wide and he let out a squeal in shock when he felt the roaming bath puff slide between his buttocks.

Yuki just gave a wolfish smile and continued to rub his boyfriend. He put his finger against a thin edge of the loofah and pressed it against the wet cleft of Shuichi's backside, nudging against the opening there.

"H-hey," the singer protested weakly, "Are you even listening?" A rose-colored blush of arousal crept across his cheeks in spite of himself. Shuichi found that whether Yuki was listening or not, he'd completely lost his train of thought.

"Hmm?" Yuki said in a calm and wickedly innocent voice. "Did I do something wrong?"

"W-Well, it's rude to just--!" Shuichi panted, unable to finish his sentence. Yuki kissed his partner's cheek at the corner of his eye.

"Ahh!" Shuichi gasped. The bath puff fell to the floor, as now it was Yuki's fingertips that pressed into his slippery entrance. The singer abandoned all attempts at conversation and clutched at Yuki's shoulders.

Yuki took Shuichi's chin in his hand and tipped his face upward for a kiss. Water flowed over them like rain as their tongues caressed. Shuichi relaxed his body, inviting Yuki's probing fingers into deeper access. His hardness throbbed in response, brushing against Yuki's thigh. Water trickled down their wet hair and faces, flowing into their open mouths. It made their lips refreshing and they drank from each other's kisses.

It felt like touching souls, not mouths. Shuichi's worries about Yuki's fidelity dissolved like sugar in warm water. Yuki was taciturn with spoken words, but his kisses were like poems. They whispered of urgency and desire, but above all, unquenchable love.

Shuichi felt Yuki's arms around him. Before he knew what was happening, the water stopped and an arm hooked behind his knees and lifted him up. Yuki held Shuichi's slender frame in his arms like a groom carrying a new bride. Still sopping wet and dripping across the floor, Yuki stepped out of the shower, across the bathroom, and into the carpeted hallway.

"Y-Yuki! A towel…" Shuichi protested inarticulately. He clutched his arms tight around Yuki's neck and shoulders. He felt giddy with the rush of being carried for the first time, but also guilty for dripping across Yuki's expensive carpeting.

Yuki did not pause, but continued to carry Shuichi down the hall towards the bedroom. As he walked, Yuki nudged back a sodden lock of hair from Shuichi's brow with his nose. "No need," he said, brushing a light kiss on the damp skin of Shuichi's forehead. Shuichi's cheeks colored and he nuzzled his wet hair against Yuki's neck.

Crisp cotton sheets drew moisture from Shuichi's skin when Yuki laid him down on the bed. Shuichi gave a contented purr as Yuki prowled over him on all fours, landing hungry kisses on his throat. The hot mouth roved downward and Shuichi bit his lower lip when it found the stiffening peak of his nipple.

Yuki's bangs tickled cold and wet on Shuichi's chest, but the rest of his body was feverishly hot. Shuichi gripped his fingers tightly behind Yuki's back. His lover's skin was warm and slick; the dampness felt like sweat as though they'd already been making love for hours.

They explored each other's bodies with ravenous mouths and restless hands for what felt like a sweet eternity, but still Yuki had made no move to go further. Aching with impatience and arousal, Shuichi sat up in bed and slid onto his hands and knees with cat-like grace. He spread his knees wide, dropping his hips low towards the mattress and cast an alluring gaze over his shoulder at Yuki behind him.

_This ought to tempt him,_ Shuichi thought slyly. He gave a winsome look from beneath the thick eyelashes and fixed his mouth in a coquettish pout. A year of experience in his lover's bed taught Shuichi more than just a few tricks, not the least of which was how aroused Yuki got when Shuichi was down on all fours. Something about Shuichi crouching prone brought out the hunter in Yuki.

Tonight was no exception and Yuki slid behind his partner, stroking his parted thighs approvingly. Shuichi tensed his body as he felt Yuki's fingertips brush past his straining erection to cup the hanging ache of his balls. He whimpered helplessly and clenched his eyes shut, knotting his fingers in the sheets. It always made Shuichi feel naughty and exposed when Yuki caressed his balls from behind like that.

Shuichi's whole body was tense and eagerly ready for that first delicious penetration, but he gasped when he felt the soft wetness of a tongue probe him from behind instead of a hard cock.

"W-wait…" Shuichi panted in insincere protest. The light pink blush of arousal across his cheeks blazed scarlet.

Yuki breathed in the sweet fruity after-scent of the shower gel on Shuichi's skin. "Your peach tastes like peaches," he commented with a lewd smile.

Shuichi squirmed with embarrassment and arousal. The position was perfect for enticing Yuki, but it left him feeling desperately exposed and vulnerable. Spread helplessly, Shuichi could feel Yuki's lustful gaze scrutinizing his most secret parts. Yuki's teasing comment made his cheeks burn even hotter.

"Yuki, you're so--!" he began, but that wicked tongue found his sensitive puckered flesh again and lapped at it tenderly. "So…" he tried to continue, "S-_ohhhh! _" Yuki pressed the tip of his tongue inside Shuichi's entrance and Shuichi abandoned attempts to protest, his words dissolving into helpless moans.

Shuichi clenched his eyes shut and gripped the sheets in tight fists as he struggled against another wave of arousal. His backside timidly clenched against the probing intruder, but Yuki continued to lick him salaciously, occasionally darting the tip of his tongue inside.

It took Shuichi a while to get used to being lapped at that way. The first time it had taken plenty of coaxing reassurance from Yuki that he _wanted_ to lick him, that this place on Shuichi's skin was as clean as any other after a shower.

Now, self-consciousness melted into unabashed desire. Shuichi relaxed his body and gave a throaty moan as he felt Yuki give him a long broad lick. He jutted his hips backward invitingly, reveling in the hungry way Yuki licked and sucked at his sensitive flesh like a succulent delicacy.

By the time Yuki flipped him onto his back, Shuichi was half-delirious with arousal. He threw his head back and cried out Yuki's name when Yuki finally pushed into him with the satisfying hardness he craved. He clawed at Yuki's back with neatly-trimmed fingernails, arching his back and moaning in time with his partner's thrusts.

This was what Shuichi wanted most--the raw power of Yuki's body over his, stroking and slamming inside him. When Yuki craved him and fully conquered him, Shuichi knew he was the center of Yuki's world. The energy of lean flexing muscle, the throbbing hardness buried inside him, and burning intensity of Yuki's wolf-like eyes—they all belonged to him completely. Sensation overwhelmed Shuichi and he gave himself entirely to Yuki in return, holding nothing back.

"Come with me, Yuki," he panted, already near the breaking point, "Come…"

Yuki's damp hair hung over his eyes concealing his facial expression. Without pausing from his rhythmic thrusting, he said, "I can't."

"Sure you can, babe," Shuichi whimpered impatiently. He bucked his hips upward in time with Yuki's thrusts.

Yuki stopped rocking his hips, but stayed buried deep inside his lover. He swept his pale hair back with one hand, revealing a face flushed with arousal and exertion. He looked a little peeved, or maybe embarrassed. "No," he said, "I mean, I already… did before you got home."

Shuichi blinked at him. Yuki made a back and forth motion with his left hand in explanation.

"Jerk!" Shuichi pouted. "Why didn't you wait for me?" He squirmed on the mattress, his body aching.

"Well, you said you were going to be home late!" Yuki said in his own defense.

Shuichi slid his hands up Yuki's back, curving around his lover's shoulders and pulling him back over him. "You'd better make me come extra hard, then, 'Yuki-sama'," he whispered.

Shuichi had no intention of giving up. He hated the idea of one-sided sex, even if only one of them was in the mood. If the ecstasy of their love-making wasn't mutual, he'd rather have nothing at all. He leaned up and licked the edge of Yuki's ear. Yuki took the bait and resumed his smooth thrusts with a lupine smile.

The flame of Shuichi's desire had cooled just enough for him to begin afresh with Yuki. He traced his fingers down his lover's sweat-slick back, caressing the hard muscles there and caught Yuki's gaze with his own violet eyes. He felt the connection spark between them, lust smoldering in Yuki's eyes.

They clenched and moaned, thrust and gripped, rutting like beasts in the tangled sheets.

When Shuichi could tell his lover was at the point of no return, he clenched his body tight around the thickness thrusting inside him. He threw his head back and his cherry-red hair splashed across the pillow, framing his face like a halo as his pleasure unraveled.

Shuichi cried out his passion as he released hot white strands across his belly. He called Yuki's name--his name and words of love too deep to utter under any circumstance but the thick intoxication of climax.

A choking groan of response erupted from between Yuki's clenched teeth. The moan swelled into a ragged cry and Yuki's entire body went tense as he climaxed inside Shuichi's warmth.

Weak with exhaustion and utterly spent, the two men fell into each other's arms. Far beyond mere words, they listened to one another's panting breath in the darkness. Shuichi cradled Yuki's head on his shoulder with motherly tenderness, kissing the salty sheen of perspiration on Yuki's brow.

The moon was climbing higher in the sky outside the bedroom window when Shuichi heard Yuki's breath slide into the slow heaviness of sleep. Shuichi smiled to himself and swept his lover's hair back from his face so he could watch the Yuki's tranquil innocence as he slept.

Bliss.

Then the phone rang and pierced the silence.


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: Thanks to Kinomi for beta reading, and to readers for their continued support._

'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

Collateral 4

_Pururururu… _Yuki's eyes opened from a dreamless sleep to the sound of the telephone.

Dread crawled across his skin. He knew who was calling from the start, but the afterwarmth of orgasm weighted his limbs like stone. His head was still cradled on Shuichi's chest, too comfortable to lift. He lay still until the answering machine picked up.

"Eiri-san?" Tohma's voice was strained with distress. "Are you there?"

Yuki sat upright as if jerked by strings, swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and rose to his feet. He grabbed his black kimono-style robe from its hook behind the door and swirled it around his shoulders.

"If you're there, please pick up." Even as a recording, Tohma's voice resonated with authority and concern. He gave an anxious sigh. "Are you home yet?"

Under his breath, Yuki muttered curses and half-formed prayers that Tohma wouldn't say something incriminating while Shuichi could hear. In a flurry of flapping black cloth, he reached for the phone, and grabbed the receiver without lifting it to his ear.

"Ei--!" Tohma's voice of ecstatic relief burst briefly from the mouthpiece before Yuki dropped the phone back in its cradle, hanging up.

He deleted the message without replaying it, picked up the phone again, and left it off the hook. Tohma could call all night if he wanted, but he would only get a busy signal.

"Yuki?" a voice called softly from behind. Yuki turned to see Shuichi leaning against the doorframe to the bedroom. His hair was tousled and worry shadowed his eyes. In that moment, he looked very young.

Guilt slithered into the pit of Yuki's gut. A strange feeling of unworthiness made it difficult to gaze back into those innocent eyes.

"It's nothing," Yuki said. "Let's go to bed." He draped his arm across Shuichi's shoulders and Shuichi rested his head against Yuki's side as they walked.

They crawled under the covers together and Yuki spooned Shuichi close, curving around his lover's body possessively like a dragon coiled around treasure. Yuki held Shuichi close against his chest until their breathing eased into the slow pace of sleep.

'''''''''''''''''''

The next morning, Shuichi left at the usual time and Yuki went to his study to write. He booted up his laptop and tried to read the latest half-written page of his manuscript, but his eyes stared past the screen in a daze.

The words he wanted to write did not come. He lit a cigarette and unbidden memories flooded over him instead.

Yesterday had been such a spectacular disaster he knew Tohma wouldn't dare a second try. His brother-in-law would harass him mercilessly for a chance to apologize, and Yuki would use his usual tact of ignoring him. Eventually, the incident would bury itself, a shaky unspoken understanding of "never again," and life would resume as before—a shitty facsimile of normality. Yuki didn't want to think of it any further. Dwelling on feelings of violation would only beckon that blood-spattered phantom, Kitazawa. ("Did you miss me, Eiri-kun"?)

The phone rang shrilly, knocking Yuki back into reality and he jerked upright in his chair. The cigarette clamped between Yuki's first two fingers had dissolved into a column of ash all the way to the filter.

_Didn't I just light this thing a second ago?_

He unplugged the phone before the answering machine could pick up. Shuichi must have put the phone back on the hook before leaving. Yuki left his cell phone on in case Shuichi called, but after the fifteenth call from an unlisted number, he turned that off as well.

He felt like a prisoner in his own apartment. Tohma lurked someplace unknown but never more than a breath away. He was most likely set on apologizing, oblivious to the fact that Yuki only wanted to be left alone, to forget.

Even with the phones off, writing was impossible. Yuki tried reading a novel to pass the time, but the words slurred into meaningless sludge on the page. After reading the same sentence six times and still not registering any of it, he threw down his book and reading glasses in disgust.

Yuki took some crabmeat from the fridge, put it on a saucer, and padded barefoot onto the back patio. He set the plate down and clicked his tongue quietly, calling for the neighborhood cat. She never showed, perhaps on feline principle to never come when called.

Yuki gave up and went back inside. He glanced at the clock, but it was still hours before Shuichi came home. In the end, he burned away his afternoon watching the mindless daytime television shows he despised.

Late in the day, there was a polite knock on the door. "Don't you have anything better to do? Leave me the fuck alone," Yuki muttered under his breath.

He was tempted to repeat this message to Tohma on the other side of the door, but decided the best response was silence. He pulled a blanket over his head. The polite tapping repeated, but no voice called out, then there was silence. Maybe it was just a salesman after all.

Yuki must have fallen asleep because the sound of keys in the door woke him. He tensed until he heard Shuichi's voice coming from the doorway.

"Yuki!" he called brightly, "You got something."

Yuki rose to his feet groggily and slumped to the door to see what the kid was talking about.

"From a fan?" Shuichi suggested.

On the doorstep stood a vase full of so many white roses it looked more like a bush than a bouquet. It must have been a florist at the door earlier. A white card was placed with care under the red ribbon looped around the neck of the vase. The front read "Eiri" in familiar handwriting.

"Just leave it," Yuki said, turning away. He headed for the kitchen.

"Are you kidding?" Shuichi said, "This must have cost a fortune!" Heaving an exaggerated grunt under its weight, Shuichi picked up the over-sized vase. He carried it inside and followed Yuki into the kitchen.

"How come you get flowers from _your_ fans and I just get creepy letters?" Shuichi said teasingly. He set the vase down on the counter and fluffed the roses with his fingers, admiring them.

Yuki slipped the envelope from under the ribbon and flicked his eyes across the card inside.

"_**I'm so sorry** you're sick_," it read. The words of apology were subtly emphasized. "_Please feel better. I'm worried about you_." Tohma's full name was signed below in elegant calligraphy. Beneath that, Tohma's cell phone number was printed neatly.

"Yuki… Are you okay?"

Yuki startled at the sound of Shuichi's voice. The kid had snuck up beside him and now glanced over his side at the card. "O-of course I am," Yuki said peevishly.

The look in Shuichi's eyes said that he was worried that Yuki's health was worse than he let on. Or maybe he was suspicious of Yuki's false excuse about being at the hospital the day before. Maybe he hadn't read the card at all.

Yuki looked at the dozens of white roses where Shuichi had lovingly placed them in a patch of sunlight--pristine white buds with rotten cores. Was it his imagination or did they have a foul smell about them?

"These need a bigger vase," Yuki commented sardonically. He gathered the roses in his hands, lifted the cropped and dripping stems from out of the water and dumped them without ceremony into the kitchen trash.

"Yuki!" Shuichi sounded shocked, almost offended. He fixed his lips in a stern line of disapproval. "What's the matter with you? He's just trying to be nice."

Yuki looked into Shuichi's fiery eyes with his own cold and unreadable expression. _'If only you knew,'_ he thought to himself. It was ironic for Shuichi of all people to defend Tohma. Wouldn't the kid be the first to tear Tohma to shreds if he knew what he had done?

Still, there was no sense telling Shuichi the truth. It was ugly, but it was over. To tell Shuichi now would only worry him. Besides, however misguided his concern, sticking up for others was part of who Shuichi was. Wasn't that one of the things Yuki quietly loved about him?

"I don't like being coddled," he said.

Shuichi sniffed primly, plucked one of the roses out from the trash, and put it in a coffee mug with water.

'''''''''''''''''''

A week later, Yuki's health was vastly improved with rest and medication. He continued to evade Tohma's attempts at contact, but the eighth day after Yuki received the roses, it was Shuichi who had wilted. He looked miserable as he trudged through the door coming home from the studio.

"Our January show got cancelled," he said joylessly. He threw himself onto the couch and lay there, lifeless as stone. "We were just the opening act, but it was at the Tokyo Dome, you know? That's huge." He sighed and draped an arm across his eyes. "I was really looking forward to it," he added in a small voice.

Yuki quirked an eyebrow in suspicion. "What happened?"

"He said… We're not ready yet," Shuichi said. He curled up on the couch, looking small and sad. The whole apartment was dimmer without Shuichi's light.

Yuki didn't need to ask who "he" was. The face he showed Shuichi remained coolly indifferent, but Yuki's fists clenched at his sides until his knuckles turned white and bloodless.

'''''''''''''''''''

"This is Seguchi." The voice on the other end of the phone was curt, professional.

"What's this about you canceling Bad Luck's opener?"

"Eiri-san! I'm glad you called!" Warm, delighted relief. "I was worried—"

"Well?"

Tohma gave a resigned sigh. "The headliner band is a big name and Bad Luck just isn't polished enough to—"

"Bullshit. You know they're good enough. This wasn't part of our deal."

Tohma's voice had the patient and maddeningly sympathetic tone of a counselor. "No offense, Eiri-san, but I'm afraid it was you who didn't hold up his end of the arrangement. You haven't returned my calls in over a week."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" After all that had happened, Yuki couldn't believe Tohma intended to continue with his blackmail plans.

"I'd really rather talk about this in person. Can we meet for coffee?"

"No."

"Hmm. Then I'm afraid there's nothing for us to discuss." Tohma's tone was one of condescending sympathy.

"……"

"Eiri-san?"

"Fine. Where?"

"How about the Blue Nile? Say, two o' clock?"

"Fine." Yuki hung up the phone in disgust.

'''''''''''''''''''

Yuki thought it might be difficult the next time he saw Tohma's face, but past emotional scar tissue had hardened him, insulating him to a state of wary detachment.

The Blue Nile was a ritzy coffee bar furnished with ultra-modern tables and chairs and appropriately lit by muted neon blue. Tohma looked at home in his surroundings as if his environment was an extension of himself. Yuki realized with bitterness how the man always managed to hold the home advantage wherever he went.

Tohma beckoned Yuki to a corner table, his expression revealing nothing more than its usual benign warmth. It was a public coffee bar, but there wasn't another soul to be seen, not even a barrista. Even so, it was reassuring to meet in a public place.

"Come sit," Tohma invited cheerfully.

Something about even the simplest of Tohma's commands made Yuki want to rebel, but what could he do—stand? He dropped heavily into the chair across from Tohma, sitting sideways on the seat with his back against the wall. He crossed his legs and pulled a half-empty pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket.

"Do you plan on making a habit of using Shindou's career to threaten me?" Yuki asked bluntly.

Tohma flashed his trademark angel's smile. "You certainly don't mince words, Eiri-san," he said, "But I like that about you." He rested his chin on his interlaced fingers with a bemused look on his face. "And I was not threatening you; I simply had no other way to get your attention. You left me with few options."

"Well?" Yuki said stiffly. "I'm here like you asked. Are you going to give his goddamn show back?"

Tohma's expression sobered slightly. "That depends on you now, doesn't it?"

Yuki halted, about to light a cigarette that dangled from between his lips. "What?"

"I want to keep meeting with you. Like we discussed before."

"Are you kidding me?" Yuki burst, louder than he'd meant to. He grit his teeth and continued lower, "After what happened last time?" _Or should I say, 'After what you did?'_

Tohma's eyes went soft with sympathy. "I'm sorry I pushed you while you were sick. That was wrong of me."

It was a rare thing to hear Tohma admit a mistake, but Yuki barely noticed. "There's an understatement," he said tightly. "You'd stoop pretty low to get what you want."

"This isn't about me, Eiri-san," Tohma explained rationally, "It never was."

"Enlighten me."

Tohma shook his head. "As I've said from the start, I want you to move forward with your life, to bury the past and stop wasting yourself with frivolous distractions."

Yuki scowled to hear his relationship with Shuichi reduced to such trivial terms. "And you think you're helping by doing… _that?_"

Tohma met Yuki's challenge with a voice of hard authority. "By any means necessary."

"You have a sick concept of therapy," Yuki commented darkly.

"Was what I did so terrible?" Tohma demanded. Even though no one was in sight, he lowered his voice so none but the two of them could possibly hear. "A kiss and a light touch? After fucking a teenage boy and half the women in Tokyo you picked a strange time to be modest."

Yuki had no reply for that.

"And what is _your _idea of therapy and taking care of yourself?" Tohma continued. "Drinking and smoking yourself into an early grave? Nothing changes; nothing improves. You're suffocating."

Suffocation. There was a time that Yuki would have called that an apt description of his life, but that was before…

"Even if no one else does, I care about you too much to let you slip away like that," Tohma said. "I care about you," he said again.

Yuki chose his words carefully. "I… appreciate your concern," he said, "But I don't want it. I can take care of myself."

Tohma was silent a moment and then said softly, "And I can remove a loose cannon band like Bad Luck from the NG label."

The calm that was building in Yuki toppled. "Damn it, Tohma!" he snarled, "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to be whole again." He sounded as though he sincerely believed his own words.

"Well, what you're doing now is only hurting me more."

Tohma unlaced his fingers. "Did you expect it to be easy? Painless? Maybe that's why you never move forward." His pale eyes grew dark with focus. "Sometimes you need to be broken down before you can be built up. This is not some minor wound that needs a bandage and a pat on the head. It's more like a spreading cancer that needs to be cut out."

Gruesome. Yuki knew they were all lies of course. Sweet-sounding words to cover dark intentions like perfume over the stench of a corpse. How could Tohma possibly believe any of this was helpful? It was blackmail for sex, nothing more, and Yuki resented the story of false compassion. Or could it be that Tohma was really so arrogant he believed his own words?

It didn't matter. All that mattered to Yuki was— "What do I have to do to make you keep Shindou with NG?"

"Just keep meeting with me. Don't shut me out. Keep an open mind when I try to help you."

Yuki said nothing. Fine. He would do the bare minimum to sate Tohma's demands, play along without his heart in it until Tohma got sick of his unresponsiveness and gave up. "And if I do, you'll give back the Tokyo Dome performance?"

Tohma smiled. "Gladly."

_That should make the kid happy_,Yuki thought to himself.

It surprised him how much relief he felt to know Shuichi's show was secure. Already, he could picture the joyful look on Shuichi's face when he heard the good news. Yuki didn't know why it mattered to him so much. Although he spoke little about it, Yuki knew how happy Shuichi made him, but that was mostly in the things the singer provided Yuki—feeling loved, a good fuck, company to share an otherwise barren apartment.

Through it all, he cared for Shuichi's passion more than his career. Why did getting the show back make Yuki so happy? Just thinking of the gleeful look on his lover's face made him want to smile, too. It was different from the feeling of giving a gift; it was directly sharing in Shuichi's joy. Where did that come from? Or perhaps this was the feeling called—?

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Tohma volunteered. His smile looked strained now as though he didn't care for Yuki's silence or the distant look in his eyes.

"No," Yuki said. "Thanks," he added as an afterthought.

"What about your health?" Tohma asked, "How are you feeling?"

There was no sense in lying. He couldn't play sick forever. "I'm fine."

No thanks to Tohma, his stress was getting worse, but the physical symptoms were gone with the aid of medication. Anyway, he couldn't wait any longer to return to his usual chemical vices. "The doctor says I should take it easy, but I can drink again and everything." He mentioned it freely. God knew a stiff drink would make his meetings with Tohma easier. He didn't want Tohma to begrudge him that much.

"I'm glad," Tohma said, "Let's go for drinks next time. I know a great place in Shinjuku called the Far Oasis. Say, tomorrow at eight?"

At least it was a bar, not a hotel; that didn't sound so bad. Yuki hadn't heard of the place, but it sounded like the sort of trendy watering hole Tohma frequented. He was annoyed that Tohma was still forcing their 'dates' to continue, but at least it sounded like Tohma was changing his tactics. Psychobabble and cocktails was better than prowling fingers any day.

Yuki shrugged. "Sure. But you're buying."

Distracted by thoughts of Shuichi's smile, he didn't notice the sly look of victory on Tohma's face.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Thank you to Kinomi for your thoughtful beta-reading.   
Many thanks also to everyone who has gone on the journey, followed this story, and taken the time to comment. Your feedback is invaluable.  
Nolan_

Collateral 5

"You tricked me, you fucker!" Yuki thought to himself bitterly as he stepped out of the cab.

The Far Oasis was indeed a bar, but more specifically, it was a top-floor lounge of an expensive hotel. Perhaps Tohma had not surrendered his sordid intentions after all…

Yuki shook the thought from his mind. He knew Tohma well enough to be sure he wouldn't make a pass at him tonight. Instead Tohma would be set on putting on a warm and friendly face to glaze over their last meeting. Still, the choice of a hotel as a location did not seem like random chance. More likely it was his subtle way of keeping his foot in the door and reminding Yuki that Tohma called the shots.

The lukewarm sounds of light jazz trickled from the direction of the lounge as Yuki stepped out of the elevator on the penthouse floor.

Only a few other couples sat inside the dimly lit room at the tables. It was easy to spot Tohma sitting at the bar, facing the door in anticipation and looking comfortably at home in Armani. Tohma smiled when he recognized Yuki and beckoned him over.

"You're looking well," Tohma commented as Yuki stiffly slid onto the barstool beside him. He must have been commenting on Yuki's health because his clothes—wrinkled slacks and a gray dress shirt—did little to flatter him.

"Thanks," Yuki said. He was guarded, but intended to be civil and play along for now. Being evasive was no use against Tohma. Yuki resolved that if his brother-in-law crossed the line, he would confront him directly man to man. Tohma was more likely to respond to honest assertiveness than trickiness anyway.

"What will you have, gentlemen?" the bartender asked, drying her hands on a towel. She was Japanese with close-cropped black hair and a boyish build offset by dark bedroom eyes and full lips.

"I'll have a vodka martini with Stolichnaya Elit vodka. A little bit dirty and just one olive," Tohma said. "And stirred, not shaken. I don't want any ice chips." He smiled sweetly.

_Pretentious bastard,_ Yuki thought to himself. Particular and spoiled to the last. Did Tohma view Yuki the same way he did his drinks—changeable and made to order? _("I'd like one Eiri trussed and helpless with an order of reciprocated desire on the side.")_ Tohma was brilliant and powerful, but largely untouched by suffering. After thirty years of living _la dolce vida_, Tohma only knew about getting what he wanted.

"And for you, sir?" the bartender asked Yuki. Her eyes glittered with subtle interest and Yuki imagined she recognized his face from book jacket covers. There was a look of sensual cruelty in her eyes, a devil-may-care attitude that Yuki would have found desirable in a woman for a one-night-stand. She seemed to be the type who was used to getting what and whom she wanted, but was humbled next to Yuki's air of celebrity. She was too reserved to ask for an autograph, but feasted her eyes on her handsome patrons.

"Double whiskey on the rocks," Yuki said simply.

"Nothing younger than forty years," Tohma added.

"Of course, sirs," the bartender said, flicking her eyes across Yuki again appreciatively. "Will you be paying now or shall I open up a tab?" She addressed Tohma, but her eyes never left the novelist.

"A tab, please," Tohma said.

The bartender fixed their drinks and set them onto cocktail napkins emblazoned with the Far Oasis logo. Yuki was pleased to note she'd been very generous with the liquor. As soon as she set the heavy-bottomed glass down, he immediately picked it up and took a deep swallow. _Over the lips and past the gums_

Tohma smiled softly to himself and shook his head with pale lashes lowered. He lifted his martini glass in his fingertips and took a dainty sip.

They made mindless small talk for a while. Recent politics, their careers. Yuki sucked down his drink and ordered a second. Tohma's martini was still half full when Yuki had polished off his second double.

Their conversation shifted to books they'd been reading lately. Tohma had just finished Osamu Dazai's _'No Longer Human'_ and mentioned that Yuki reminded him of the novel's protagonist.

Yuki understood the comparison—a frustrated artist, emotionally stunted to the point of dispassion, sexually abused at a young age, and turned to substance abuse and meaningless sex to bury his troubles. In the end, the main character was even driven to the same illness as Yuki, vomiting blood from stress. Yuki supposed Tohma mentioned it as a cautionary tale—the path of destruction that would befall a man like Yuki without the outside intervention of a concerned mentor. Yuki was skeptical, however. He always thought the character was shamelessly unrepentant, never seeking or intending to correct himself.

Still, it was refreshing to discuss literature with a fellow aficionado. Although Yuki was reluctant to admit it, Tohma was a fascinating conversationalist—a quick wit and similar tastes and observations. Yuki realized they'd never really discussed literature together like this before. Not since he was young and saw the world through eyes veiled with innocence.

Yuki could never talk to Shuichi about things like this, could he? The kid didn't like to read novels and even if Yuki asked him to, wouldn't subtext and allegory go right over his head? Shuichi was a brilliant musician and a passionate lover, but Yuki was resigned to never fully share the literary realm with him.

Tohma probably figured upstaging Shuichi intellectually would win him into Yuki's favor, proving himself a better partner. Yuki set his jaw. If that was what Tohma thought, he was wrong. Yuki had to confess he enjoyed their conversation, but common interest alone did not make him a good romantic partner. Similar interests could make him a good friend, but this blackmail bullshit grated that option into the ground as well.

"Shindou is very excited about the upcoming show," Tohma commented, seeming to change the conversation.

"Oh?"

Tohma nodded slightly. "I want you to know," he began carefully, "That I am extending him every courtesy, treating him more than fairly as long as you keep meeting with me as we agreed."

Yuki nodded. Lately Shuichi buzzed with excitement every night he came back from the studio. Bad Luck was soaring and Shuichi with it. He spent many nights out late practicing and attending publicity events, but the time he spent with Yuki was paradise.

Even as he kept his cool demeanor, how could Yuki help but feel his own spirits shiver and soar while so close to Shuichi's energy? Lately, Yuki often raised his napkin to his lips to hide a smile when they ate dinner together. When they made love, Shuichi burned with fiery abandon that drew Yuki in and ignited in him a long-dormant flame.

Though Shuichi was an incomplete person when his music was taken away, he became superhuman when he was glutted on fame, finally allowed to stretch his wings and burst through the sky into the music industry. Shuichi's exhilaration lifted him. Their elevated happiness almost made it worth the cost of Tohma's backing. "Almost" because Yuki knew things could only get worse.

Tohma waited until the bartender moved to the other end of the bar and began serving other customers before he spoke again.

"You ask too little of life, Eiri-san," he commented lightly.

"What?"

"Why did you roll your eyes when I gave specific instruction for how I wanted my drink served?" Tohma asked. There was no accusation in his voice, just curiosity.

"I didn't—" Yuki began, but Tohma raised a hand to silence him.

"There's nothing wrong with being specific about what you want," Tohma said. He lifted his martini glass to his lips for a delicate sip. The look on his face showed he savored its taste. "I asked for just what I wanted, and I got it. I'll leave a hefty tip in appreciation to the bartender. So where's the harm in it?"

Yuki drew his eyebrows together darkly. A sense of foreboding told him this conversation was going to take an ugly turn. "I just have simple tastes."

Tohma shook his head. "And is that why nothing pleases you?" he asked. "Come now, I'm sure we both know you're not a man of simple tastes. And yet, you always seem to settle for inadequate things that don't satisfy you. Why is that?"

Yuki scowled. He'd been right to see this coming. "Cut the crap."

Tohma nodded his understanding. "Yes, I'm referring to Shindou," he said.

Yuki bristled. "And what gives you the authority to decide who is 'inadequate' for me? You think your tastes are the only right ones? Give me a break."

Tohma smiled to himself, that goddamn self-confident look he wore so well. "I look at Shindou, and in him I see the face of every devoted fan who ever loved you," he said. "He's desperately in love with you, but you know that. Dozens of people have loved you as fanatically as he does and you can recognize that obsession in an instant. He would do anything for you."

"And there's something wrong with that?" Yuki demanded.

"It's not a lack of devotion;" Tohma said, "It's the lack of anything else that worries me. He's no different from any other devoted fan who is more obsessed with your image than the man beneath. The needs he fulfills in you could be just as easily met by one of your devoted readers or that ex-fiancé of yours."

"That's a pretty crude statement," Yuki said darkly. "You already assume all my fans are alike."

Tohma shook his head. "It's not that they're alike, but more that they're not different enough."

"What the hell do you know about it?"

"Did I hear correctly from Mika that Shindou actually wore a dress to your father's temple when you were to be married to Ayaka?" Tohma asked innocently.

Yuki frowned. If anything, that would set Shuichi apart. "Yeah. So?"

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," Tohma said. "If you want him to be a woman, he'll become a woman for you. If you told him to be more studious, I'm sure he's start reading. If you told him to fall to his knees on a public street corner and bark like a dog, I'm sure he'd do that, too."

Yuki scowled. Partly because he knew it was true. He knew Shuichi would do damn near anything to please him and stay together with him, but that just proved his devotion; it was no mark of shame. "Even if that's true, so what?"

A hint of frustration crossed Tohma's face. "That's not the way it should work," he said. "Shindou is malleable, like clay. He'll take any shape you want him to, anything to please you. Many of your other fans would do the same, even change their very personality to better suit your mood that day. But that's not love, Eiri. That's not finding a partner; that's just a doll that will parrot back the words you want to hear."

"You're wrong. There's more to it than that." Yuki's fingernails dug into his palms, his knuckles white with clenched anger.

"Is there? I won't even ask what else you have in common with Shindou because I'm afraid to watch you stumble for an answer."

"Shut up." Fists shaking slightly now.

"He will happily mold into whatever you want him to be, but any fan can do that. Love isn't about finding a partner of clay—"

"Shut the fuck up!"

"—It's about finding someone who actually understands you, who clicks with you from the start because their own personality meshes well with yours. Someone who is willing to stand up to you rather than blindly conform to you. Someone who sees the man beneath the exterior. I don't see any of that in him."

"You're wrong." Yuki said the words and believed them.

He burned with fury inside, but he did not argue or try to explain himself. Tohma wouldn't listen to reason anyway; he was already convinced he was right. Even if Yuki gave iron-clad proof that Shuichi was different, that the two of them were naturally compatible, Tohma would simply deflect every argument and argue further.

Besides that, Yuki found he couldn't quite think of any good points to dispute at the moment. It wasn't that Tohma was right; it was just that Yuki was too damn angry to think clearly. Somehow, hearing Tohma insult Shuichi made Yuki more enraged than if Tohma had been insulting him.

"There is one other thing," Tohma said carefully, "That convinces me your current relationship does not fit you."

"And what's that?" Yuki snapped.

Tohma considered his next words in silence for a moment, his fingers steepled and pressed to his lips. "I don't believe you're on the right side of control if you understand my meaning."

Yuki blinked. Tohma sighed. "I'm loathe to mention his name," Tohma said, "But the only comparison I can draw is to the one man I know you loved." Yuki was stunned to hear Tohma bring up Kitazawa of all people to prove a point. It was no secret that Tohma loathed Kitazawa more than the devil himself.

"Your feelings for him were not like your feelings for Shindou. Quite the reverse really," Tohma said.

Yuki narrowed his eyes. "You mean who's doing the screwing and who's getting screwed?"

Tohma closed his eyes. "If you want to put it crudely." He took a drink from his martini.

"That's ridiculous!" Yuki said, struggling to keep his voice low. A faint blush of anger and embarrassment rose to his cheeks.

"Is it?" Tohma asked calmly.

"I was just a stupid kid. What did I know?" Yuki snarled. His feelings for Kitazawa all those years ago were a result of temporary inexperience, not a natural inclination towards submission.

"You were a smart boy," Tohma said. "I think you knew quite a lot. Including what you wanted. I saw the real you then--a brilliant and gentle person who wanted to be loved fully. It was only after what your tutor did to you that you changed. He interrupted your natural growth and what you've been doing since is running away and protecting yourself, not once taking what you truly want from love."

Yuki's angry blush darkened. "That's the biggest load of crap I ever heard." An image rose in his mind of lying on his back on white cotton sheets with arms outstretched and Kitazawa settling above him… Yuki angrily shook the thought from his mind. _What a load of crap!_

Tohma said nothing. Yuki finally broke the silence for him. "So that's what this is all about, then?"

"At the heart of things," Tohma said, "I suppose it is."

Yuki made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat.

"That is why I tell you the truth when I say I don't care if you don't end up with me," Tohma said, "But I can't stand idly by and watch you languish with a lover like Shindou. The sort of love that he can offer is not the kind that would ever satisfy you. Nor will you find what you're looking for up the skirts of the countless women you've bedded. You already know what you want. It's only the fault of circumstance, of what that man did to you, that you're too afraid to claim it."

Yuki was struck with a dark epiphany. "That's what this is about," he said.

Tohma nodded.

All of it. The forced dates, the crawling seduction in the hotel. Tohma was convinced that Yuki wanted to be a submissive, receiving partner in his relationships but was too scarred by Kitazawa to pursue it. Tohma genuinely believed that he was helping Yuki break through some emotional inner barrier by forcing him into a submissive role.

Tohma thought Yuki would never find love in women, Shuichi, or any passive lover, and he was so convinced of this fact that he would go to any lengths to prove it. Suddenly, Tohma's words about wanting to 'cure' Yuki 'by any means necessary' floated to the surface of Yuki's mind like a bobbing corpse.

"This is never going to be over…" Yuki said. He looked at Tohma with the wide eyes of a field mouse staring at a swooping owl. "You're never going to leave me alone until—!"

Tohma cocked his head, pretending not to understand. He understood all right. He understood and now Yuki did too, that Tohma would never be content until he saw Yuki play the part of the sexual submissive, returned again to the wide-eyed helpless boy from before Kitazawa's betrayal. There was no doubt in Yuki's mind that Tohma intended to be the one to do it.

It was madness! Worse than simple desire, Tohma in all his egomania had sincerely convinced himself that this was what Yuki wanted. He truly thought he was helping, inducing an emotional breakthrough by forced submission. Worse still, Yuki knew better than to believe Tohma's words that he didn't care whether or not Yuki ended up with him. Yuki knew that Tohma was not the type to suffer rejection lightly; he would not be content with seeing Yuki underneath him once. He was convinced he was the ideal partner for the future as well.

The situation was sick. _Yuki_ felt sick. His body, even his face, felt suddenly numb and bloodless. He couldn't stay. He stood and staggered back from the bar. His bar stool clattered to the ground and every head in the lounge suddenly turned to face him.

Yuki's cheeks burned with rage and humiliation, flaring hotter under the scrutiny of all those eyes. He didn't dare lift his gaze to look at Tohma. He was sickened by the very thought of what he might find there.

Struggling to look composed, Yuki walked out of the lounge, moving more briskly once he was out the doors and Tohma let him go without slipping in the final word.

Yuki mashed his thumb against the arrow pointing down to call the elevator and allowed himself to breathe hard and shaky once he was alone inside. On the ground floor at last, he rushed outside and sucked in breaths of cooling night air.

It was impossible. Yuki's mind would not close around what Tohma expected of him. Instead, he thought only of the singer waiting for him at home and how he would get there. He would call a cab. As simple as that…

He took a few steps toward the street, when he heard a familiar voice call out his given name in a foreign accent. "Eiri Uesugi?"

Yuki turned to see the dark, smiling eyes of a face from his past he had not seen in nearly a decade. "Nikolai…"


End file.
